The Weet-Bix Box: A Short Story

I heard the faint high pitched beeping of my alarm clock as I opened my sleep covered eyes. I attempted to roll out from under my covers but immediately retreated as I felt the chilly spring air touch my skin. While I was mustering up the motivation to get out of bed, I glanced at my alarm clock. “11:00 AM” it read in boxy, glowing numbers. Had I really slept in that long? I finally rose from my bed, traveling down the stairs to make myself some breakfast. “Hi, girl!” I greeted my dog where she was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. I smiled to myself as I turned on some music, opened the fridge to retrieve some eggs, and turned on the stove. It felt like a fine Saturday morning until I remembered that I had a lacrosse game later

You know I don’t like it… What time is it?..” He turned over and tried to grab his phone, but he couldn’t reach it. I giggled and smiled at his predicament. Well, I guess that’s what ya get for being lazy. He sighed loudly and managed to scoot close enough to his phone to grab it with his fingertips. Now with his phone in hand he scrambled out of bed and to the closet. I watched and followed him after he got out of bed. Man. This guy only realizes that we’re going to be late if he doesn’t hurry. No, the obvious sunlight should’ve thrown him off or maybe it should’ve been me dressed and ready. He carefully pulled out two traditional American uniforms for us and I smiled before standing up promptly. I went to the kitchen and began pull things out to cook for breakfast. I opened the fridge and took out fish. I also grabbed some milk. I heard the shower turn on while searching in the cabinets for the right pans, bread, and rice. While furiously humming the most recent song that I have heard, I began

His alarm went off early the next morning and he groaned as he got up to turn it off. He was just starting to fall asleep. He barely remembered the night before, and he was as tired as a kid could be. He struggled as he slowly forced himself out of bed and to his closet to get dressed.

I glare at her uselessly from my seat as it slowly trickles towards nine pm, and I’m sure I’m getting no dinner what so ever. Hunched I slump towards my bedroom, leaving my favourite copy of Alan Paton’s Cry, the Beloved Country behind as I begin sinking slowly into my bed, my stomach making this rumbling curdles, it aches my insides, I have to roll

You shoot up from your warm bed. You rub the sleep from your eyes and glance at the clock, which strikes 6:10. It seems as though your heart skips a beat. The cozy blankets try to keep you enthralled in their warm grasp as you jump from their reach. The bus to Buffalo leaves in twenty minutes and you should’ve woken up an hour ago. You frantically toss on your oversized sweatshirt and leggings and race to the kitchen, in hope that you have time to sneak a quick bite to eat. As you run in, you see that your mother has made you two slices of toast, crisp and crunchy, spread with a thick layer of creamy, melted butter. While running around the house, munching on the perfectly toasted bread, you quick grab your swimsuit and bag, which

Amber started her morning the way she always did. She rolled over in bed to shut off her alarm clock that now shined a red light showing 9:38 a.m. Most would consider this sleeping in, but for Amber it was just another day. She got out of bed, slipped on her slippers and a sweater, and headed out the door to grab her morning coffee from a little shop down the street.

Waking up before the rising sun on the morning of the hunt left me feeling groggy with my eyes slow to open and close when blinking. Walking through the narrow hallways of the cabin on the cool, roughly textured carpeted, floor I made my way to the petite kitchen. Being extra quiet to not wake up my mother was a main challenge. Trying to tippy toe around the cabin and dodging the creaky spots in the floor. Prior to eating breakfast, I began getting dressed in my own bedroom. All my clothes were laid out neatly on the low, softly padded chair placed in the corner of my room. Due to the fact that I was in northern Minnesota, the weather was bone chilling and the wind would seep right through your layers onto your unsuspecting skin. Once I had put on my long johns, sweatpants, and long sleeve shirt with a tee shirt on top I began to make my breakfast. I decided to have scrambled eggs that were cooked to perfection with the yolk golden mixed in with the snow white egg white and flakes of pepper sprinkled throughout. There was also toast with butter melted onto the crunchy outside making it soft with homemade strawberry jam spread thick on top.

Craig awoke with his black cat, Thief, perched on his chest and pawing at his face. The sunlight was slipping through the curtains onto his bed, creating a warm spot for Thief to jump back onto once Craig threw him off his chest. Both he and his cat let out a long, loud yawn then got out of bed, ready for breakfast. Craig never liked the taste of coffee, so as he opened a can of cat food from the cupboard he walked over to the fridge to grab a ready-made smoothie. He settled on ‘tropical berry’ and set the can of food down for the cat so he could enjoy his meal without a high pitched whine. He sat down at his bar countertop and shuffled through the newspaper headlines on his tablet accompanied only by the soft smacking of his cat chewing. The rest of his world was still, if only for a moment.

“Hey Alan wake up...you're going to be late” said my aunt as she snatched the blanket off my legs “ I am up okay…” I said. As i was getting dressed, all i could hear was my aunt saying “ I told to go to sleep early last night...”. I wasn’t to worried about not getting enough sleep because i knew i could sleep in the airplane. I rushed into the bathroom to comb my hair and a sweet soothing smell penetrated the bathroom door...then i knew my aunt was making breakfast. She was making pancakes, eggs, hashbrowns and bacon...mmm bacon, i couldn’t wait to eat it. As soon as i was done combing my hair, i rushed into the kitchen and leaped into the table. My mouth began to drool, i grabbed a fork and pierced through the scrambles eggs as if it was

The day has just begun, after the hibernation in the small cottage hotel room. Plunk of brightness blanketed the whole trees and soil which revealed some small black creatures carrying small picks of food from the ground, to their nest. The color of the lively lizard blended into the soil. Rich aroma of the breakfast tickled my nose of crispy bread that smelled like it just has been freshly baked, mellow juice squeezed from the raw fruit of sour orange, sugary desserts of sweet and bitter chocolate, and millions of freshness. Dishes were clinking, clanking and clogging around, forks, knives and spoons were playing jazz. Regardless that it’s already past dawn.

You wake up to the dreadful sound of your alarm clock. "Ugh, is it 7:00 am already" Groggy, you wipe the sleep from your eyes and climb from bed.

After I finish up my cocoa puffs, I chug down the creamy brown milk. I walk over and put my nice shiny shoes on. One glance at the clock, and I’m running out of my apartment. It’s 7:15, I have to be at work at 7:30.

The willow tree outside my window swayed to the beat of the windchimes on the porch. The sun softly revealed itself through the morning haze. My bed is soft and familiar at this time in the morning. But Mack insists that she has an emergency and needs me there. This could be nothing, or it could be something. I argue with myself for a couple minutes, just go back to sleep Mack will be fine. But then, when I close my eyes again, I think to myself, what if Mack is in serious trouble? I guess this means I am going to have to get out of bed. I roll out and barely land on my feet. I begin to debate on whether it is worth it to get ready, but I realize that I do not want to argue twice with myself this early in the morning. Mack will just have to enjoy my stretched out grey V-neck and blue cotton shorts.

Slipping on my grey slippers and M&M robe, for of course, the safety of warmth, I go off into the darkness of the house to find my way into the kitchen. Reaching down into the cupboard I have to make a very hard decision. Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Reese's Peanut Butter Puffs. Deciding on the Reese's Puffs, I get the gallon of milk out of the fridge. After I make my delicious breakfast, I head back to my room and begin my favorite part of the morning;

The sun hits like a bullet of faith and then suddenly I am wide awake. The buzzing of the alarm clock suddenly stops, seven thirty, the numbers read. I pull my comforter tighter under my chin and close my eyes, fully intending to get up in a few minutes, but not yet. I can not do it yet. Unfortunately, my Mother is always there to wake up on time. The listlessness of my voice surprises me. I groan and fold the thick layers of blankets off of me. The frigid December air pounces. As I watch, thousands of tiny bumps germinate on my arms, and the fine hairs stand alarmingly straight. I stretch my arms and yawn away the sleep out of me, the day starts.